


the advantages and disadvantages of unicorns

by sinntowin



Series: endless curiosities [1]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: After care, Biting, Bloodplay, Come Inflation, Come Marking, Come Swallowing, Consensual Somnophilia, DICK TOO BOMB, Felching, Fingerfucking, Fluff, Fluffy Ending, Hand Jobs, JUST PORN HERE PEOPLE, Kinda, Knotting, M/M, Marathon Sex, Marking, Mildly Dubious Consent, Nothing to see here, Overstimulation, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Prostate Milking, Rimming, Somnophilia, and unicorns, bc the Stiles kinda blacks out, just lots of kinky wolf sex, most of this entire thing makes no sense
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-15
Updated: 2016-03-15
Packaged: 2018-05-26 22:56:15
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,252
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6259069
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sinntowin/pseuds/sinntowin
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>advantages of unicorns<br/>1. pure magical beings of light and all that shit.</p><p>disadvantages of unicorns<br/>1. they show up in your backyard and let people know you're a virgin when you've got your cred to protect.</p><p>or</p><p>that one where Peter Hale finds out you're a virgin and proceeds to make you a not-virgin.</p>
            </blockquote>





	the advantages and disadvantages of unicorns

Stiles didn’t quite know how he got here.

Well, okay - no. He  _ did  _ know how he got here but he was maybe, kinda,  _ probably _ in an unhealthy amount of denial about it.

And  _ here _ , was, well, possibly either the worst or best _ (probably both) _ possible situation he had ever gotten himself into, which  _ (phew boy) _ was really something taking his royally fucked up existence into account. Would being a Stiles sized snack for a particularly hungry kanima be a better fate than this? Most likely - since ‘here’ was underneath one Peter Hale.

At least the kanima would eat him quickly.

Peter Hale on the other hand… was going to slowly and agonisingly take him apart piece by piece. Dear  _ lord _ was he fucked in every sense of the word.

Strictly speaking, he kind of  _ did _ get himself into this situation, due to his staggering ability not be able to keep his big mouth shut. Himself and Peter were supposed to be working through a plan to successfully capture and relocate a unicorn.  _ A fucking unicorn _ . How was this his life?

It had literally magically appeared in the forest while the pack was on patrol for two weeks on end now - at first the pack had thought nothing of it, it’s not like it was hurting anyone. But when it started showing up in the backyards of various virginial youths and scaring the shit out of them, multiple sightings had started being reported to the local police, causing the pack to finally decide that something kinda needed to be done about it. Preferably before it got outside the town and news companies started getting wind of more strange happenings going on in Beacon Hills.

And of course, among those virginial youths that were blessed with a visit from their one horned pony friend, just  _ had  _ to be Stiles. And of course the only other witness to this event was everyone’s favourite creepy Uncle, who had been dropping off some much needed reading material for a Spark in training. After witnessing Stiles’ mortification and desperate attempt to play it off, in true creeper form, Peter had smoothly seated himself on the arm of his living room couch and placed one long fingered, elegant hand across the nape of the teen’s neck and smiled terrifyingly wide down at him. He had taunted Stiles, and Stiles had replied with all the sarcasm and wit that he could muster in his flustered state.

However, in a battle words Peter was definitely Stiles' superior and had manipulated him so that the teen was exactly where the werewolf wanted him ( _ “A werewolf has twice the sexual prowess of any human, my love,” _ ). In his irritation and frustration, Stiles had finally said the damning words which has gotten him into this stupid situation:

_ “Prove it,” _

Stiles’ stomach had sunk to his knees when he saw that vicious damning light of victory shine in those hungry eyes, and he knew that Peter had gotten him exactly where he’d wanted him. 

_ “If you insist,” _

And before he could protest there had suddenly been a sharp mouthful of teeth upon the delicate skin of his neck, teething, nibbling, lightly grazing them down the slender column of his jugular. An animalistic rumble that was almost a purr resounding in the chest that was now pressed firmly against his, Stiles thought his heart might pound through his ribs.

He couldn’t stop the whimper that escaped his panting lips when Peter worked a hickey into the pale flesh of his throat (above the collar  _ goddamnit _ ) with his teeth  _ (were those fangs?!) _ , before sucking hard and lapping at the achy hurt it left behind. The teen could feel himself plumping up in his shorts and the blood rushing so quickly from his head that is left him dizzy, arousal beginning to burn under his skin.

Somehow Stiles’ fingers had twined themselves in Peter’s hair and then they were kissing, hot and filthy as the werewolf caught Stiles’ bottom lip between his teeth, nipping hard enough to draw blood and sucking  _ hard _ .  The teen’s breath caught on a gasp and a muffled curse, knowing his lip was probably going to bruise and tugged harshly on Peter’s hair in retaliation. It only seemed to fire the shithead up further as he gave a low groan that went directly to Stiles’ cock.

In seconds the werewolf had manipulated Stiles’ body so that his long legs were wrapped around his waist, taking all of his weight with the ease only a furry creature of the night could possess and was depositing him onto his mattress in record time, beginning to thoroughly disrobe him, and Stiles’ could only watch Peter as his eyes glowed a piercing blue.

The werewolf watched him like he was starving, falling upon every inch of newly revealed skin like it was a feast, his deft fingers pulling off Stiles’ t-shirt, working open the button of his jeans, impatiently pulling them down. And, keeping eye contact with Stiles and he slowly leaned in, mouthing hungrily at the teen’s obvious erection, lapping ravenously at the damp patch where precome had seeped through. The teen could hold back the little hurt noises he made as the pleasure mounted, desperate and wanting.

Peter’s eyes took on a wicked glint before abruptly ceasing Stiles’ hips and flipping him onto his stomach, one hand pressed firmly against the small of his back, another spreading his thighs, leaving his ass up in the air, back bowed and his heaving chest pressed into the mattress.

Stiles could feel Peter’s breath ghosting over the sensitive flesh of his inner thighs, he heard Peter take a deep breath  _ (was he fucking sniffing him?!). _

But before Stiles could even ask, Peter was murmuring, crooning to him. The words sounded deceptively sweet - gentle, however laced with the lingering hunger.

“My lovely little Stiles, you look so perfect like this, such a treat - just for me,” the bastard just sounded so unbearably pleased with himself, Stiles was about to say some choice words to the fucker.

But rather abruptly his mind went completely blank as his shorts were pulled down and Peter promptly spread him wide, leaving him feeling overexposed and vulnerable. Peter made a sound similar to a revving engine, Stiles moaned in humiliation when he felt his cock twitch at the sound, and tried to ignore the werewolf’s answering chuckle.

“Such a pretty hole, it’s going to be  _ such _ a pleasure to  _ wreck _ ,” Peter purred, blowing hot air across Stiles’ quivering entrance before pressing into him with his tongue, lapping him frothy, fingers spreading the teen as wide as possible, going deep as Stiles did his best to protest, words thick in his throat and desperate mewls escaping his harshly bitten lips as his hips jerked back and forth, unsure of what exactly he wanted.

It was already almost too much, the way his hole was beginning to soften, become wet, puffy, shivery like the rest of him - impossible to ignore the slippery sounds as Peter lapped him out, the way his insides felt tingly and overwarm when they fluttered and clenched around the determined press of the werewolf’s tongue inside him.

Then suddenly something thicker was being pressed into him, and Stiles couldn't hold back the high shivery keen that thrummed in his throat, the way his thighs trembled and tried to ignore Peter’s gritty growl in response, shoving his finger in until the first knuckle, caressing his insides and brushing against Stiles’ prostate in a way that almost made him collapse.

Peter made quick work of him, fingerfucking him until he was boneless against the mattress, his dick jerking and drooling precome between his stomach and the sheets, Stiles’ voice becoming scratchy - two fingers, three, four. They were pressing so deep, at one point Stiles could swear that Peter had the better part of his hand inside him, the over-slick sounds his hole was making sounded fucking  _ obscene _ , accompanied by the background noise of Peter’s low purring and a filthy litany of words spilling from his spit slicked lips, Stiles helpless fucked out sounds being gasped against the sheets.

It was too much, _too much,_ when Peter finally finally pressed into him _(‘mounted’’, Stiles thought almost hysterically),_ the werewolf’s length and girth pressing his swollen insides open, forcing them to yield to him until he was fully seated, their thighs pressing together in a too hot collision of slick flesh, everything was too hot, Stiles felt like he was drenched in sweat - everything clinging to his skin, Peter included.

He started to rock slowly, pressing the entire length of his body along Stiles’, his mouth returning to the mottled expanse of his throat, teething at the nape of his neck, his too hot breath blowing against the sensitive shell of his ear as he abruptly embedded his teeth in Stiles’ neck hard enough to draw blood  _ (“fucker!” Stiles hissed, much to the older male’s apparent amusement),  _ tongue immediately pressing into the little indents once pulled away, kissing the pain away, tasting Stiles on his tongue.

Then Peter began to move, a steady smooth rhythm that left Stiles shuddering, the fat head of the werewolf's cock jabbing his prostate every other instroke, making his limbs jerk spastically  _ (were his fingers sparking??),  _ his eyes began to roll in his skull when Peter reached under him, palming his starved erection, wrapping those elegant fingers around his flushed length just right, he hiccupped a little desperate sob.

The thrusting had begun to speed up, the steady rhythm faltering as Peter began to lose himself little by little, his composure slipping as he started gritting filthy words into Stiles’ ear in broken sentences, he must have partially shifted since some of the words were becoming garbled.

_ (So perfect inside. Ahh _ **_pup_ ** _. Such a good bitch for me. So good under me. Going to claim you, every wolf in a 10 mile radius is going to know who you belong to. Ahh  _ **_fuck_ ** _. Can’t wait to split you on my knot, breed you up.) _

Stiles was so out of it that he barely registered most of the words Peter was saying, but he startled on the last one, breath hitching and cock twitching hard in Peter’s grasp  _ (he was so fucking close, oh god). Dear lord, knotting was a thing.  _ He remembered reading it in one of the tomes that Deaton had given him. Jesus christ.

Peter’s breathing had quickened, his hips working desperately against Stiles’ and a low desperate keening had begun in the back of the werewolf’s throat, his muscles locking up as he gasped against Stiles’ neck, all his former composure gone as he shook and pressed deep into Stiles, pressing their hips together hard enough to bruise. Stiles knew what was coming  _ (heh) _ , but nothing could have prepared him for the sharp press of the werewolf's knot, spearing his trembly insides apart, the way that Peter worked his hips into him even after it had caught, locking them together. Stiles went mindless when Peter ground the fat bulge right up against his prostate, body shaking like a leaf as he spent himself on his favourite sheets, the thick come going tacky on his skin, his orgasm washing over him again and again.

The teen could feel the way his insides were being filled, the liquid warmth coating his insides and couldn’t stop his insides from shuddering with the aftershocks of the too intense orgasm, sobs beginning to wrack his chest when the pleasure and oversensitivity blended into one long wave of  _ too much. _ His hips jerked wildly when Peter continued to give long, firm tugs of his spent cock, milking him dry as the werewolf’s knot pulsed against his insides.

It was a blur after that, Stiles faded in and out of consciousness, he was mounted again and again, the way Peter went mindless with need, the wolf locking up over Stiles’ body countless times, the hurt little whimpers escaping him as he came again and again inside the teen’s willing body. Turning Stiles’ hole into a soft, slick, humid place to bury himself, between fucking him he could feel Peter’s tongue between his thighs, licking into the soft pink, fucked open furl of his entrance, tasting them mixed together, sucking the warm cum out of him. Pressing it into Stiles’ mouth when he mounted him again, Stiles tasting them both on his tongue, drinking from Peter’s lips desperately, so far gone that he could hardly formulate words. The werewolf jabbing deliberately against Stiles’ overworked prostate, he had started coming dry after the third time, the waves of  _ pleasurepaintoomuch  _ causing tears to wash down Stiles ruddy cheeks as his entire body quaked and thrashed as it tried to curl into itself to escape from the constant stimulation. He was pretty sure that his stomach had become distended with all the come at some point, but that might have been the delirium.

* * *

 

But eventually Stiles became aware of things other than being fucked, he became aware of being tenderly wiped down with a warm flannel, of being wrapped in freshly tumble-dried blankets and being tucked against a rumbling, warm, firm chest from head to toe, of being held.

When Stiles finally woke up the next morning it was to (pleasantly?) sore and aching muscles, and a faceful of very nice toned pectorals. He slow-blinked as everything slowly ran through his head again. And again. And…

_ “GO FIND THAT FUCKING UNICORN AND SIT ON IT’S FUCKING FOREHEAD YOU SHITTY CREEPERWOLF.” _

  
  
  
  
  
  


**Author's Note:**

> come visit me on [my writing side blog](http://sinntowin.tumblr.com/) on tumblr to yell at me about headcanons/ talk kinky fanfic to me. i may be persuaded to write a lil something something for ya


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